The Quiet One
by Craft Rose
Summary: There was a boy in Slytherin whose story was never told. (Loads of Theomione ahead. This story cured my writer's block. Yaaaay!)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Chapter One! I'll go ahead and say this is slightly AU where the trio is concerned.**

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 _ **14th August 1991**_

It was a cold night in London. For the first time since his mother had passed, Theodore was summoned to his father's study. Nott Sr. was a shrewd, old-fashioned man of pure lineage. It was rare that he graced his son with his presence — but when he did, it was never good. Memories of his mother on her deathbed penetrated Theodore's mind as he raised a hand to the large, mahogany door and knocked. It stood open an inch or two, but he didn't dare enter without making his presence known.

"Come in," his father voiced, distantly.

Theodore hung back a moment, collecting the nerves in his chest and forcing them down, to an uncharted crevice of his heart. It was summer, and yet, cold winds howled above and around the Manor, in such a way that he felt it in bones. Without another moment to spare, he slowly opened the door, causing the hinges to creak as a tall, dark-haired man of similar stature and demeanour to all the tall, dark-haired men that came before him, stood silently.

"Father." Theodore fell to the hardwood floor, head down in a bow.

There was a moment of silence before Nott Sr. turned away from the window and faced his son, whisky in one hand and an embellished dragon-core wand in the other. "Rise."

Theodore scrambled to his feet, brushing the wrinkles from his trousers, biding time before he was meant to look his father in the eyes. When he did, a jolt of fear went through the poor boy. Nott Sr. had that way about him - a stillness that drove fear into anyone who dared make eye contact.

"Your acceptance letter arrived in the post," he disclosed, staring down at his eleven-year-old son. "I trust you know what this means."

"Yes, sir. I . . . I am to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I will be sorted into Slytherin. I . . . I will distance myself from the other boys, and I will not dishonour our most sacred name."

The older wizard narrowed his dark blue eyes and nodded once, in a show of approval. "Correct," he said, hands shaking as he poured himself another glassful of whisky.

Theodore watched from a distance and swallowed hard, ignoring the pang of worry in his chest. Nott Sr. was far past his prime, and his drinking habits slowed him down significantly, but he was the only family Theodore had left. Over the years, his and his father's relationship became estranged. _I remind him of too much of her,_ Theodore knew. The housekeepers told him as much. He was very young when his mother died, but he knew enough to determine the source of his quiet, subdued nature. Part of him liked having that in common with the late Olivia Nott, but he also hated it, as it deprived him of the childhood he craved so very much.

Olivia died of natural causes, and yet her son was to blame.

 _Father looks at me and sees only her, her and the cold reminder that she's gone, that I'm all he has left. A meek, worthless son who dishonours him by breathing the same air._

It was a strange thing for a child to grow up knowing, Theodore supposed, but he was different from the other children. He was forced to cope with death at a dauntingly young age. More than that, he could see things others couldn't.

"Come here," his father beckoned, breaking the boy's train of thought.

Theodore looked to him and stepped closer, apprehensively.

Nott Sr. took a drink from his whisky, carrying the stench in his breath as he knelt down in front of his son, and revealed to the boy, his left forearm. There was a faded, reddish mark etched into his skin. "What is this?" the man asked, looking steadily at his heir.

Theodore ignored the panic in his chest. Panic was for cowards, and he refused to be one. "The Dark Mark," he answered, proudly.

His father nodded. "Yes, and what does it mean?"

"It — " _Show no fear. Show no weakness._ "It means you were a follower of The Dark Lord before he was eradicated by The Boy Who Lived."

His father nodded a second time. "Good," he said. "That boy is to attend Hogwarts in September. You will befriend him by any means necessary. Is that understood?"

Theodore blinked wide, startled by the information. "Yes, sir," he quickly said. "I . . . I'll try my best."

"You will not try. You will do," his father corrected. "It is most important that you succeed. Draco and the other boys will foolishly attempt to do so by means of social hierarchy and peer pressure. You will do the opposite. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," he nodded, aware of his father's distaste for the Malfoy clan.

"This boy . . . _Harry Potter_ . . . he will most likely be sorted into Gryffindor," the man continued. "He will not trust you."

Theodore didn't flinch. He knew of the rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor. "I'll make him trust me."

"No," his father countered. "You will wait. You will observe. You will take time and do what is necessary. If and when the day comes, you will bring him here and I will deal with him then on. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir."

 _ **1st September 1991**_

Countless students waved farewell to their families. The younger ones lingered on the platform, unready to part ways with childhood as they knew it, whilst the older ones hopped aboard the Hogwarts Express, reconnecting with friends and exchanging stories of what happened over the summer.

Theodore, on the other hand, had arrived to Platform Nine and Three Quarters on his own, wheeling what looked like an entire library of books in his cart, underneath which rested his trunk. In some ways, he was happy to be on his own, away from his father's watchful stare. But when he saw all those families, waving and embracing and promising to write over the course of the term, he couldn't help but wonder what it was like to have a normal life and be raised by someone who truly cared.

Once he lugged his belongings onto the train and found an empty compartment somewhere in the middle, the empty feeling in his chest subsided a little. It wasn't that bad, having Nott Sr. for a father. He was a strict man, of course, but he _did_ care. It just so happened that he was terrible at showing it.

" _Theodore! Theodore, dear! Do come outside!_ "

The boy turned his head, looking to the window where a fair-haired woman waved madly at him, the way he imagined his mother would have, had she lived to see him off. Without another moment to spare, he zipped out of the compartment and off of the train, tightly embraced by Narcissa Malfoy.

"Oh, Theodore," she said, releasing him moments later. "It feels like just yesterday, both you and Draco were toddlers flying about the lawn on your toy brooms. And . . . and now you're off to Hogwarts for the first time." Teary-eyed, the woman held a hand over her heart.

Theodore blushed a little, looking down.

"Olivia would be proud of you. I know it," Narcissa continued, speaking of her best friend.

To Theodore's knowledge, his mother and Draco's mother had been close as young girls and spent every waking moment together in and out of Hogwarts. They planned their lives in accordance with one another. Narcissa was engaged to her boyfriend, Lucius Malfoy, in the same year that Olivia was engaged to her boyfriend, Rabastan Lestrange. Of course, when Rabastan was arrested early in the First Wizarding War, the engagement was broken and Olivia was forced to marry someone else.

It was a difficult situation for everyone involved, and it took time for Olivia to fall in love her husband. Nott Sr. was a man of few words, cold and distance in many ways, but he loved his wife from the moment they first met and did everything in his power to cure her, when she fell terribly ill. It was a fast disease, and it left her bedridden for months before taking over her completely. The day she died, she asked Narcissa to look after her son, to make sure he knew warmth and kindness.

From that moment on, Narcissa took it upon herself to be there for Theodore when he needed a mother. It worked out fine when he was younger, but the older he grew, the more he distanced himself from them . . . knowing in his heart that Nott Sr. didn't approve of Narcissa and her frivolous ways. His father's approval meant more to him than anything in the world, and so he did what he could to earn it.

If that meant distancing himself from the others, then so be it.

Narcissa dabbed the corners of her eyes with a square of white silk, breaking Theodore's concentration. "I wish she could be here to see you, how much you've grown."

There was an ache in his chest but he ignored it. He learned long ago not to dwell in sadness. "Thank you for your kind words, but I . . . I should really leave before the train departs."

"Of course, of course," Narcissa nodded, sniffing the remaining tears away before giving him one last hug. "I expect you and your father over for Christmas, do you understand?"

"Yes, Mrs. Malfoy."

"Good. Now go on and join Draco. I believe he is with those boys, Vincent and Gregory, in the back, most likely."

Theodore nodded politely and left the woman, quickly realizing only she had been there to see Draco off. It seemed Nott Sr. wasn't alone in his detached nature.

He hopped onto the train, the moment the engine roared to life, and held on it started to move. Once he regained some form of balance, he made his way to the compartment wherein he had left his belongings.

"What the — "

A jolt of surprised went through him as he found someone in his compartment — _a girl._ Short, in first year, it seemed, with the wildest, curliest hair he'd ever seen, and her nose buried in one of his books.

Theodore blinked the shock away and straightened his posture. "Excuse me, but this is _my_ compartment, and that is _my_ book."

There was a moment of silence between them, before the little witch glanced up, closing Theodore's copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them._ To his embarrassment, she looked him up and down, the shrewdness in her eyes reminding him of his father, for a quick second.

"I highly doubt this train compartment belongs to you," she stated using a tone that he could only describe as snippy. "As for your book — here. I've got my own copy anyway."

He quickly took it, a tinge of colour to his cheeks as he noticed that most of his belongings had spilled out of his trunk upon departure. Whilst collecting his strewn articles of clothing, parchment and books, his eyes darted to the witch, curiously. She seemed to be practicing a levitation charm, and though it pained him to admit, she was decent at it. More than decent, if he was honest.

 _She must be pureblood,_ he rationalized, knowing most pureblood children, including himself, were taught a dozen or so standard spells before enrollment.

Theodore sat down with a sigh, having stowed away the last of hs belongings, and looked across, to the girl. "I didn't catch your name," he said knowing introductions were necessary when entering an institution like Hogwarts. Surely he would need a partner on certain assignments. It only made sense to befriend the best and brightest of the bunch, and this witch certainly fit the bill. Not only did he find her reading _for fun_ , he was also witness to her, as she casted a perfect levitation spell. Yes, she would certainly do.

"Hermione Granger," she introduced, pocketing her wand. "And you're Theodore Nott."

Slightly, taken aback, he lifted an eyebrow at the witch.

"It was written in your book," she explained, without a flinch. " _Property of Theodore Nott Jr._ "

His eyes narrowed a moment. "Tell me, Harmony Granger. Do you normally rifle through things that don't belong to you?"

"It's _Hermione_ Granger, and no, I don't, but most people _I_ know are more than happy to share." When he opened his mouth but failed to respond, she continued. "I assume that is a foreign concept to you?"

"What?"

"Sharing."

"I assume asking nicely is a foreign concept to _you_."

"My apologies," she snapped back, cold in both tone and demeanour.

Theodore scrunched his mouth, instantly rethinking his plans to partner with this girl. If five minutes in a train compartment proved so intensely difficult, there was no chance in hell they would work well together on a class assignment. Not without popping a couple veins, anyway.

"Beg your pardon, but have either of you seen Trevor?" asked someone else.

Both of them fixed their attention on the door and found a chubby boy with two enormous front teeth and a lost look about him, like a puppy with no owner.

"Trevor?" Hermione repeated. "Trevor who?"

"Trevor my toad," the boy explained, an embarrassed hue to his cheeks. "I . . . I think I lost him. My gran is going to kill me. I only got him a week ago."

Theodore suppressed the urge to laugh and instead checked the compartment for this missing toad. "I'm afraid Trevor's not in here," he said.

The boy sighed deeply, scratching the back of his head. "I'll check somewhere else, then."

"I'll help you," Hermione volunteered, meeting him at the door. "What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't. It's Neville."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Neville. My name is Hermione Granger . . ." Her eyes darted to Theodore for a split second. "And this here is Theodore Nott."

"I know," Neville quickly said, looking nervously as the other boy. "Everyone knows the Nott's."

Hermione blanked a moment. "Oh, well, I didn't before today. That's probably because I'm Muggle-born."

"Muggle-born?" Theodore repeated, before he could stop.

The girl looked to him. "Yes, that is correct. My parents are muggles."

Neville looked between them, swallowing a bit. "I'll . . . I'll keep looking for Trevor . . ." With that, he left the compartment in a series of clumsy steps, bumping into a few people on his way down the aisle.

"I've read about the prejudices in wizarding society," Hermione said, once the noise died down. "People of muggle heritage aren't welcome in every circle."

Theodore wasn't sure what to say, so he settled with a nod.

"I assumed I wouldn't encounter any blood purists so soon."

"What makes you think I'm a blood purist?" he asked, in no particular way.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "Aren't you?"

Before he could answer, the sound of three familiar voices captured his attention. Without further word, he looked to the girl and nodded his head to the door. "I'm not, but those boys down the aisle _are_."

The shrewdness in her eyes faltered for only a moment before she left the train compartment in a hurry, in the opposite direction of those voices. Theodore exhaled, releasing the tension in his chest as his friends, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle entered.

"We've been looking for you," Draco said, standing front and centre, arms folded with Crabbe and Goyle on either side of him, like bodyguards. "Rumour has it, Harry Potter is on this train."

Theodore swallowed, keeping in mind what his father told him. "I'm aware."

"Have you seen him?"

"No," he answered, reaching for his copy of _Fantastic Beasts_ and opening it. "And I don't care."

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 **A/N: Thoughts? Reminder - if you're interested in this story and wish to see it continue, the best and most helpful thing you can do is let me know. The power of a review is immensely helpful. Thanks for taking the time to read the first chapter!**

 **Cheers**

 **xo.**


	2. Chapter 2

The first couple of months at Hogwarts had gone by quicker than expected. First years were sorted, lines were drawn, and loyalties were formed. Theodore was sorted into Slytherin which came as no surprise to him nor anyone else. He was descended from a long line of Slytherins, after all, and when he owled Nott Sr. to inform him of the good news, he had received no more than two words in response. _Very good._ Not the most enthusiastic reply but better than nothing, which was what he had expected.

It didn't matter, either way.

There were more important things to worry about.

 _ **31st October 1991**_

Theodore has risen early that morning, quickly remembering it was Halloween. There was to be a feast in the Great Hall later that day, the first one since the start-of-term, and he was quite excited though he tried to hide it. He wasn't there to jump about and behave like a child; he was there to learn and focus on what was expected of him as the smartest boy in his year. Depending on who was asked, he was the smartest student period — boy or girl — but there was some debate over who was smarter between him and that Granger girl he had met on the train. She may have been a Muggle-born but she was a talented witch and certainly knew her way around the classroom. More often than not, their hands shot up at the same time, in the same classes, and their academic excellence seemed to fan the fire between their rival Houses. He didn't care much for the rivalry but his friends certainly did. Had Granger any friends to speak of, he knew the same would have been true for her.

There were times when he saw her with that Neville boy, but she was mostly alone, in the library or in the Great Hall with her nose buried in a book. For some reason he paid close attention to the bookish witch, though he tried not to stare too often as he knew one might misinterpret his stares as a show of affection or something equally embarrassing. Truth be told, he could not have cared less. Draco and the other boys fancied a couple of the pretty, older witches, and made no show of hiding it, but Theodore had no interest in that part of boarding school life.

They were only eleven, after all.

"Pay attention students," Professor McGonagall firmly instructed. The murmur in the classroom died down as she displayed the proper wand maneuver required, to transfigure heavy objects like books and bottles into feathers. A useful spell for someone like Neville, for example, who seemed to have a natural talent at dropping things on his feet on a daily basis. Theodore didn't think the awkward boy would be able to save himself and his toes from the trauma, regardless, but it was fun to watch him try.

As per, he had managed to cast the spell a dozen or so times already, and agreed to help his friends with it when they asked. When he looked around the classroom to see if Granger had kept up, he noticed she wasn't there. Her desk was empty.

Odd.

He had definitely seen her earlier that morning in Charms class, which meant — unless she had suddenly fallen ill between first and second period — his number one competition and the know-it-all of the century, had bunked Transfiguration class for no apparent reason.

"What are you looking at over there?" Draco sneered, following Theodore's line of vision as the boy lost his train of thought.

Theodore quickly refocused. "Nothing," he blurted, transfiguring his book into a feather and reversing it, a few times times, before he was sure Draco had found something else to occupy his attention.

"Very good!" Professor McGonagall said to them, reinforcing their collectively abysmal efforts in a positive manner. "Well done to you all. Do not feel discouraged if you were unable to cast the spell today. Practice makes perfect. Keep at it. Dismissed."

The school bell sounded and the students shuffled from their seats, talking excitedly of the festivities that awaited them at dinner. There was still a few hours until then, and a flying lesson that Theodore was not looking forward to. He was a perfectly good flyer but the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin seemed to grow exponentially during flying lessons. The adrenaline and fresh air got their blood pumping, he supposed.

Regardless, it was lunchtime and his stomach had been growling since breakfast. Though he had woken up early, there had been a long line to use the showers, and he had unfortunately missed out on the first meal of the day.

He made his way to the Great Hall and sneakily overheard what a few of the first year Slytherin girls were talking about. Pansy Parkinson led the discussion.

"I heard she's been crying all day," she told the other girls in a hushed voice. "It's no wonder. I would be a blubbering mess, too, if I were born with buck teeth and hair as ghastly as hers!"

The other girls snickered with her, adding their own commentary.

Though no names had been spoken, Theodore knew within an earshot of the conversation that they were talking about Granger. Buck teeth and ghastly hair? That description had Granger written all over it, not to mention the fact that the story explained her absence from Transfiguration.

"Last I checked she was hiding in the bathroom," Parkinson furthered. "I wonder if any of the Gryffindor lot have even noticed. They avoid her like the plague, don't they?"

The girls snickered again.

Theodore tossed a pointed look at them, for no reason other than he felt like it, and wavered a little as the smallest, prettiest girl of the bunch, Daphne Greengrass, fixed a smile in his direction.

"Would you mind if I had a sip of your Pumpkin Juice?" she kindly asked, eyeing his goblet despite having one of her own.

For a moment he was blank. "Er — sure. _I mean, no. I mean_ — "

Daphne giggled at his reaction and took a sip from his goblet anyway, and left a glossy print along the rim from the stuff she had on her lips. Some sort of shiny lip balm, if he had to guess.

"You and I should revise together some time," the girl suggested. "I could certainly use the help."

Theodore lifted an eyebrow at her. To his knowledge, she had never once stepped foot in the library and hated school-work in general, but performed well enough in classes that she didn't need the help to pass. He imagined she might require assistance during later years of study but certainly not the first.

When the afternoon bell sounded, he realized he had gone thirty seconds without telling her yes or no.

"Think about it and let me know, yeah?"

The boy nodded, wondering what the hell that was about.

Once flying lessons were over and first years were dismissed, there was an hour to kill before the feast.

Theodore decided to kick back in the library for a bit, where he knew he could be alone, and looked at his wristwatch now and then to make sure he wouldn't miss the festivities. The older he got, the more his appetite grew. Though he had eaten only a few hours ago, his stomach was rumbling again. He checked the time and figured it would be fine to head down to the Great Hall a little early to see if there were any snacks or appetizers to munch on before the feast.

The thought was enough to launch him out of his seat and into the corridors, where he passed by one of the bathrooms on the third floor, freezing in his tracks. There was a sound coming from inside. It was a soft echo, the sound of a laugh … no, not a laugh … _a cry_ … which for some reason reminded him of someone. Gossip hour at the Slytherin table came to mind, but no … it can't have been. He wondered for a fraction of a second before the sound of a whimper followed by a sniff confirmed his suspicions. The boy tiptoed close to the doorway and bobbed his head inside, where he spotted a curly-haired brunette by the sinks, her eyes glistening under a fresh wave of tears.

In her hand was a crumpled up piece of parchment that she seemed to be using as a tissue. He lifted an eyebrow at that, knowing she was fully aware of how to transfigure parchment into softer material, but he figured she was in too much of a state to think properly. The fact that she had spent most of the day alone in the bathroom, crying her eyes out for whatever reason, was enough to support that assessment. There wasn't an ounce of rationale in her, not in that moment, which led him to believe he should bow out of the doorway before she saw him. He made a move for it but the hinges screeched.

Granger snapped a look at the door and backed away when she saw him, her eyes wide and shiny. "You. What are _you_ doing here?" she demanded, already reaching for her wand.

Theodore opened his mouth to respond, but again, he was left wordless. It seemed he had forgotten how to talk to girls.

"If you dare tell anyone that I was in here like this, I'll — "

"I won't tell," he cut in, the door swinging behind him as he stepped inside. "Why weren't you in class?"

She folded her arms. "That's _none_ of your business."

"Fine," he decided. "I don't suppose you know what that smell is, then?"

"Smell? What smell?" she asked, crinkling her face when she finally caught a whiff of it. "Ugh!"

Theodore pinched his nose and turned around to leave, knowing the feast was to begin at any moment, when suddenly, the foul stench grew stronger. He then realized it wasn't coming from _within_ the bathroom, but _outside_ of it. One look through the door and he froze.

"Troll!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, surprised his voice could go so loud. He turned around to find a wide-eyed Granger, and said it again. "Troll! Outside! Run!"

She didn't seem to understand. "What do you mean _troll_? There can't be a troll. According to _Hogwarts, A History_ this institution is the safest place in wizarding Britain. I highly doubt a creature as stupid as a troll would be able to bypass all four-hundred and fifty-six protective charms that surround the — " Her face twisted into a look of horror and she stumbled backwards, pointing at the doorway as Theodore sprinted away from it. "Troll!" she cried.

Theodore darted out of the way as a large, oafish creature barreled in through the large doorway, a club in its stubby hand and the stench of death following its every step.

He raced to the other side of the bathroom to hide in the stall farthest from the troll, when he quickly clued into the fact that Granger hadn't moved a muscle. She stood frozen in fear as the troll zeroed in on her. A loud, rumbling roar tore through the creature's misshapen mouth, before it ran in Granger's direction with its club ready. Her legs simply wouldn't move. Theodore watched it unfold for another millisecond before another pair of footsteps raced into the girls bathroom. These ones, however, were much lighter than the troll's and belonged to a couple of first years from Granger's house.

Potter and Weasley.

They didn't notice him at first. The second Potter jumped on the troll's back, the Slytherin boy snapped out of it and helped. He raced to Granger, whose back was plastered against the wall, whilst Weasley fired the first spell he could think of.

" _Wingardium Leviosa_!" the red-haired boy shouted triumphantly. To everyone's surprise including his own, he managed to cast the spell correctly and levitated the troll's club above his its head before bonking it on the head with it. It wobbled for a second, Potter still holding on, then tumbled to the floor with a loud _thud_.

Theodore managed to wrangle Granger away from the wall and towards the door, where the other boys eventually joined. The four of them looked at the troll as though waiting for it to attack again.

"Is it — dead?" Granger cautiously asked.

"I don't think so," Potter remarked. "I think it's just been knocked out." He plucked his wand from the troll's gaping nostril and wiped the slimy residue on the creature's trousers. "Urgh. Troll bogeys."

They cringed together but the focus in the room soon shifted as Potter and Weasley finally caught wind of the fact that there was a Slytherin in their presence.

"What were you doing here?" Weasley questioned. "Last I checked, this was the _girls_ bathroom."

Theodore opened his mouth to retort, to explain what happened in the most biting way imaginable, when he suddenly remembered what he had told Granger prior to the troll incident. _I won't tell._ "Er — "

"He heard me scream and raced inside to help," Granger interjected, lying to her housemates. Her eyes darted to him to see that he understood what she had done, and he nodded.

"Yes, that's what — that's what happened," Theodore furthered. "I was on my way to the feast, when I heard her scream."

Potter and Weasley exchanged look, but before they could respond, they were interrupted by Professors McGonagall, Snape and Quirrell as they came racing into the bathroom. There was a moment of scolding before Granger lied again, this time to protect all three of the boys. Potter and Weasley seemed shocked by this, too, but they corroborated her story just fine. Houses Gryffindor and Slytherin were awarded ten points each and the brave first years were let go with a swift warning not to put themselves in danger ever again.

"Wait up!" Potter called out, as Theodore turned in the opposite direction.

The Slytherin boy came to a halt.

"I think it's cool, what you did for Hermione. I reckon there aren't many Slytherins who would put their neck on the line to save a Gryffindor."

He was slightly taken aback by the remark but he welcomed it nonetheless. "Thanks."

"Thaddeus, right?"

"Er … no. It's Theodore, actually. Theodore Nott."

"Oh, right. My mistake," Potter said uncomfortably. "Anyway, I'll, er … I'll see you in class tomorrow, then."

Theodore nodded. "Yeah."

There was a moment of awkward silence before the boys parted ways.

And just like that, he was on solid ground with the Gryffindor lot, and he owed it to a troll. Instead of going to the Slytherin Common Room as he had been instructed to do by McGonagall, he went straight to the owlery and sent a letter to his father. Somehow, he had managed to earn Harry Potter's trust, which meant the plan was in motion.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading this chapter! It was fun to write. Tell me what you think.**

 **Cheers**

 **xo.**


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